No More Grieving
by Confetti Darkness
Summary: Having her world stolen the first time was devastating, but a second was just unfair. Rated T for safety, One Shot.


AN: I'm not sure what inspired this story, but it happened, and I hope you enjoy it! Trigger warning: this story is about grief, with mentions of suicide, depression, and substance abuse (but only briefly, and no detail is given). I apologize for any typos (winner of most failed spelling tests here). I don't own Voltron in any way, shape or form, just this story. Let me know what you think!

She didn't sleep much these days. Her mind refused to settle, even as hours of idleness flew by. The television hummed quietly in the background, casting soft blue light through the dilapidated living room. The remains of previous attempts at eating were littered across the smudged glass coffee table, and countless empty bottles of alcohol took post on the floor. The ceiling fan whirled pointlessly overhead, sometimes rocking loudly.

A clock somewhere in the house solemnly chimed three, but Mrs. Holt didn't move from her place on the couch. In the beginning, she had tried to tried to sleep, but seven months of wakefulness, a perpetually active mind, and crippling guilt, taught her that it was pointless to even try.

Despite her initial reluctance, Mrs. Holt swung her legs to floor, sending the bottles crashing with loud "chinks " as the muddy brown glass collided. Gaining her feet, the woman walked to the kitchen, feeling her body get heavier and heavier with each step, despite the amount of weight she knows she's lost. Foregoing the refrigerator, she opened a bottle of wine, and proceeded to sip straight for the bottle-it's like she had someone to share it with anyway. She sank to the frigid tile, and hoped the deep red liquid would take her somewhere far, far away from here.

 _Breaking news, three Galaxy Garrison cadets have been reported missing. This comes just seven months after the ill fated Kerberos mission, leaving many with questions about the safety of the program designed to train pilots for interstellar exploration. Statements from previous students indicate..._

Stirred from her winding thoughts, Mrs. Holt jumped violently to her feet, dropping the heavy black bottle in the process. The shattered remains were left swimming in the burgundy drink, as she hurdled into the living room. Fumbling in her old quilted blankets for the remote, she turned up the volume, as financial figures and quotes flashed on the screen. Then, to her horror, she saw the smiling face of Katie-or rather, "Pidge Gunderson", and two other young men flash on the screen.

 _Our thoughts and prayers are with the families. If you have any information regarding the location of Lance McLain, Hunk Garrett, and Pidge Gunderson, please contact..._

Having her world stolen the first time was devastating, but a second was just unfair.

She felt a gaping hole rip itself in her heart, like it had when the same unfeeling newscaster delivered the news about the Kerberos mission. She hated that man. His solid face as he ruthlessly tore Shiro's skills apart, and placed the blame solely on his shoulders, while footage of his crying mother played in the background. His cold, ridiculing eyes, as he insinuated that her and her daughter didn't care enough to attend the memorial services of Sam and Matt. His look of disappointment when he reported that she refused to answer questions, or comment on the politics of it all. She hated that man, because his condolences were fraudulent, and his writers only wanted the next big story.

Before she lost them, she had been a politician's secretary. The ladies of the office offered solemn condolences, and offered to be crying shoulders, but most of them were unmarried, childless twenty-somethings, who couldn't understand the pain of losing both a husband and a son. So as much as she hated that newscaster, she would have to thank him at least for giving her people she could relate to.

She wanted to cry, and scream, like she had the first time, but nothing came. She felt guilty because she loved Katie more than anything in the world-not that she had much of one left- but she was so tired of crying and grieving, that she decided not to grieve at all. She had grieved for her husband and son, but what good had that done her? She was a depressed, alcoholic, hermit that shut everyone out so that she could wallow in self-pity for seven months while her daughter pursued hope in the same place that had taken hers.

No, she was done grieving.

Mrs. Holt marched to her husband's office, and turned on the computer. Taking a seat in the dark rolling chair, she paused a moment to admire how delightfully messy Sam had been. Papers were placed in messy stacks on the desk, penciled notes stuck all over the computer screen. Had she not been on a mission to speak with the parents of the other lost kids, she might have spent the rest of the morning recollecting how furious she would get when she found the room a mess, only to have Sam spew excitedly about some new discovery or breakthrough while she lightheartedly tried to tidy up the papers that had found their way to the floor.

She took a deep breath, and entered one of the boy's names into the search bar. By luck, she found a Facebook page that appeared to belong to him. A glance at his photos revealed his love of food, but the big smile on his face in the pictures with his family made her heart ache. She clicked tagged woman in one of the pictures, and was taken to the page of a preschool she owned. She took note of the number, deciding not to call because it's was still very early, and she didn't want to startle Mrs. Garrett with some crazy message about her son going missing before she could hear it from the news.

Lance's family was harder to find, maybe because it was so big. She didn't know which Mr. and Mrs. McLain were his parents, and even smiling family photo led to still more family photos. It also didn't help that Lance posted to many selfies. She felt a bit strange, being a grown-ass woman poking around a child's Instagram, but her mission to help his family took priority over her embarrassment. She somehow found an address and number to a restaurant that seemed to be owned by the family, and wrote its number down, too.

Although the clock chimed eight now, Mrs. Holt hardly noticed it. She typed Shiro's name into the search bar, but hesitated to hit enter. She remembered how the media was so quick to blame the boy, and didn't want to see pages of mean-spirited articles blaming him for all of it, when he wasn't around to defend himself. He was so young, Mrs. Holt supposed it made him an easy target. At first, she wanted blamed him too. After all, he was a relatively inexperienced pilot, and she'd only ever met him once, and it's easy to blame a stranger. But at dinner, Sam and Matt would chatter about his intensity and meticulous eye for detail, sometimes joking, sometimes not. But Mrs. Holt knew for certain that Shiro didn't allow himself to make mistakes. Her mind flashed to their introduction at a press dinner she didn't want to go to, a few days before the launch. It was a hasty, rushed meeting, but she vaguely remembered him promising her that he would bring her family home safely- an ironic footnote in her melancholy story.

With a reluctant peck at the key, Mrs. Holt entered the search. The first article to pop up was not one she was expecting.

"Mother of Disgraced Pilot commits suicide in San Francisco home" the headline read, and Mrs. Holt's stomach sank. This kind woman's life, reduced to just ten words. She had met Ms. Shirogane at the same press junket, and had a lovely conversation. She had promised to stay in touch, but forgot once the news came. Mrs. Holt couldn't bear to click on the article, though, because she knew it wouldn't contain a single line about the single mom who had to work three jobs to keep Shiro and his brother fed. Or the mother who had her son killed providing medical care to soldiers. Not a single line would be written about the organization she created to help keep troubled kids off the street. No, this incredible woman would be defined by the falsehood that drove her to this, and Mrs. Holt couldn't push back her feelings of disgust and loathing for the media and the Garrison.

The clock struck ten, and she decided that now was appropriate to call the other parents, hopefully before the reporters could. She carefully dialed the preschool, and was met with the voice of a young woman who was trying to hide her sorrow behind an overly cheery greeting. When she explained who she was, the woman informed her that Mrs. Garrett had already left for the Garrison, but she could call her personal number when she landed.

Lance's family didn't answer, so she left a message and her phone number so that they could call back. She decided that she ought to pull herself together, and visit the Garrison as well.

She made the mistake of letting them get away with ruining her life once, but she wouldn't be letting them get away with it again.

AN: I ~might~ consider writing a chapter about the parents meeting and what happens after, but for now I'll label it as complete. Thank you for reading!


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